


Another Time, Another Place

by ead13



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition, Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Power Struggle, Secret Power, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-23
Updated: 2020-04-17
Packaged: 2020-10-26 13:20:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 16,929
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20742854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ead13/pseuds/ead13
Summary: Hennig can't escape her Dragonborn legacy, so she drinks. And then speaks a shout incorrectly. And then wakes up next to a woman with a glowing green hand in a completely different world. Perhaps this is a chance given by the Divines to start over.Just one problem: she's a spell-sword, and that perpetually frowning Commander doesn't appreciate the way she flaunts magic.





	1. Enemies

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Sumi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sumi/gifts).

Hennig knew exactly why she was here, shivering in the snow of some high mountains next to some noble woman with a glowing green hand. It was the drinking. She had been having too many glasses of wine (compensating for their weakness, as she’d grown so accustomed to harder drinks after her time in Skyrim) in that backstreet bar in Wayrest. She was trying hard as always to disappear back into anonymity after all her doings in Skyrim and failing spectacularly. This must all be a part of her drunken illusions, though the cold felt strikingly real.

As she was hauled away to prison along with the unconscious woman, she began to consider the situation a bit more carefully. This was too real to be an illusion. Then, she remembered exactly what she had been doing before disappearing from the seedy establishment: boasting about her powers. Despite wanting to separate herself from all the accolades she’d earned as the Dragonborn and returning home in an attempt to escape, people in High Rock still knew. Her fame haunted her even here. They wanted her to demonstrate her shouting powers, and being drunk, she went along with it. Something safe, like Become Ethereal or Slow Time. Inebriated, she must have gotten it very wrong.

As events unfolded around her, she concluded that she was no longer in Tamriel at all. Hennig didn’t put such a thing past ancient magic used improperly. There was no point in lying about it to her captors, and they seemed to accept it as part of the strange magic of the “rifts” that had appeared. The other woman, Trevelyan, was named some kind of Herald, and the mark on her hand was tied to those same rifts. Hennig felt sorry for her, knowing full well the burden of destiny, but all the same was grateful it wasn’t her all over again. She’d still follow along, of course, for lack of any knowledge of this world, or honestly anything better to do, but the weight was NOT going to be on her shoulders, not again. In fact, perhaps this was a blessing by the Eight, sending her somewhere where no one knew of her so she could resume life like a normal person. One thing was certain: no more shouting. She’d go back to being a simple spell-sword, helping where she could, but always making sure she could walk away if she truly wanted.

VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV

It turned out there was no such thing as a “simple spell-sword” in Thedas, the realm where she had ended up. Where magic was viewed as a sign of the elite in High Rock, and at the very least studied at universities in other regions of Tamriel, it was viewed as a curse here. Thank the Eight Trevelyan was also a mage, and given her special status, made certain Hennig was not persecuted for her unapologetic use of magic. 

That didn’t stop the suspicious glances from the Inquisition’s perpetually frowning commander.

One day, not long after they’d settled in Haven, he approached her. Hennig was less than thrilled. The last commander she’d dealt with had been Tullius, and he made her regret siding with the Imperials. Tullius dealt in “strategy”, which was a fancy way of saying he was all talk and useless on the battlefield. Anyone who dressed the way this commander did was likely the same way.

“You never stayed at a Circle, did you?” She watched his guarded expression carefully, attempting to detect any hostility. “You use magic too fearlessly.”

“Where I came from, we didn’t HAVE mage prisons,” Hennig sniffed. Trevelyan had explained to her all about the system she had been trapped in, earning her sincerest sympathy. “Mages went to school to hone their skills. They served in the army. They worked as healers. They were the most learned scholars.”

Now his frown intensified, as did the glint of suspicion in his eyes. “You’re from Tevinter, then.”

“Tevinter? Never heard of it. I’m from Wayrest in High Rock.”

“Wherever that is, you were still an apostate.” He said the final word with an unmistakable hint of distaste.

Hennig could feel her pulse intensify as she stared him down. “If an apostate means I didn’t allow myself to be held prisoner because of my gifts, then yes, I am. And so was that Solas, so why aren’t you picking on him?”

“Solas has proven himself by helping us seal the rifts. All you have done is carelessly flaunt your skills in the most mundane of situations. You need to control yourself, because the moment you prove to be a danger, I WILL put you down.”

She had been hesitant to believe he could, but something in the warning flash of his eyes set her blood on fire. Perhaps it was the dragon within her rising to the challenge. “As if you could.”

“Trevelyan tells me you are a Knight-Enchanter.”

“A what? I’m a spell-sword!”

“Crude name for the same thing. So tell me, does that mean you are an expert in both spell AND sword, or have you divided your attentions so you practice both poorly?”

The paralysis spell was already flaring in her hands before she could think. “How about I demonstrate?” she snapped. Before she could lunge, however, she felt a sudden heavy weight overtake her body. The spell fizzled out in her hands, and it was all she could do to bite back a cry of frustration lest he get some kind of satisfaction from it.

“I take it you haven’t heard,” he growled. “I am Commander Cullen Rutherford, an ex-Templar. I haven’t forgotten my old skills just because I left the order, and you’d best remember that.”

Oh, she was furious now, and combined with the fact that she was no stranger to adversity, she forced her body to move despite her situation. “I have no idea what that means, but it will take more than some trick to keep me down! You have no idea who you are dealing with!” 

When she reached for her sword, Cullen was at first unconcerned. In her current state, there was no way she could be a threat. He quickly changed his mind, forced to unsheathe his own sword and parry a vicious blow. In fact, he had to grudgingly admit that she was a decent talent with it, considering how competent she was despite the slowed reflexes he’d struck her with. He’d have to keep an eye on her, he vowed as he knocked her sword from her shaky grasp. “I’m dealing with a mage, and let me tell you, I have a lot of experience disabling mages. You aren’t anything I haven’t seen.”

At that moment, so driven by her wounded ego, she nearly broke her vow and used a shout to send him flying. So very close. However, being reckless with her shouts was what had landed her in this position, which she was quickly realizing was not the ideal position she had initially thought. The Divines were punishing her, it was clear now. She would grit her teeth and endure this lesson in humility in hopes of earning their blessing once more.

As he turned to walk away, she snarled “You haven’t seen all I’m capable of, and when you do…you will eat those words, Cullen Rutherford.” If he heard her, he didn’t show it.

The worst part of all was how excited the little exchange made her. Something primal found in a struggle for dominance, and for the first time in a long time, she hadn’t effortlessly ended up on top. Damn him.

VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV

Trevelyan explained to her later that as a former Templar, Cullen could negate her spells by weakening her connection to the Fade, whatever that meant. Hennig had to admit this was a fearsome ability, one she had never encountered in Tamriel. Still, he’d given away his trump card in a meaningless display of power, and she could exploit that. Meanwhile, he still had no idea of her true capability with a blade. Trevelyan was more concerned that they had gotten off on the wrong foot, and worried that she ought to soothe things between the two of them to avoid further conflict. Hennig just waved her off dismissively; she would fight her own battles.

In actuality, Trevelyan became her closest friend. The newly-liberated mage drew inspiration from the fearless spell-sword, and brought her along on her adventures nearly every time, claiming Hennig provided the party versatility. In return, Trevelyan explained the workings of the world, having easily accepted that her new friend was not from Thedas. It certainly spared her from being bored out of her mind back in Haven, stuck with judgmental glares from a certain someone.

To be fair, there were others she did get along with. Solas was open to teaching, and in fact was pleased to have an eager pupil; Hennig was keen to learn how the use of magic was different in this world and whether there were any new applications. She had never seen a dwarf before, but with Varric it quickly became the most natural thing in the world. Blackwall made an excellent sparring partner, and she particularly liked him because there was something familiar in the way he dodged his past. He never pressed her for answers, and she did likewise. 

Then they hired the Qunari mercenary. Tamriel had Khajit and Argonians, so it wasn’t necessarily a shock to find a horned, metallic-skinned giant roaming Thedas. It was just that he had some strange philosophical beliefs, but Trevelyan took a shine to his easy-going manner right off the bat. Hennig wasn’t so convinced. She’d seen plenty of good actors in her time (she had grown up in arguably the most political region of Tamriel, after all), and Trevelyan had next to no experience with deception thanks to her time in the Circle. She’d be keeping an eye on him.

They moved quickly and accomplished their goals, culminating with the recruitment of the ex-Circle mages, much to Commander Cullen’s dismay and her delight. They sealed the main rift. Everything seemed to be going right. Then came the attack.


	2. Uneasy Allies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I mentioned in the comments of the first part that I planned on coming back to this and writing more. So, here's some more. I'll probably restructure this later, but for now I am making it a chapter just so people can find the new content quickly.

The whole thing seemed like the bad, recurring nightmares she got of Helgen. Fire and screaming, people scrambling to get out of harm’s way. Perhaps most notably, there was a red, crystal-encrusted dragon flying around much like Alduin had. She could feel her mouth go dry at the sight. Thedas had dragons too? Was there no escape? What had she done to anger Akatosh so?

But fear would not hold her back, not when there were people to save. Truth be told, though she hated being praised as a hero, she could not resist the need to help others. That was how she found herself cutting down Templars as they poured through the gates, giving the civilians time to flee. It turned out her little confrontation with Cullen had potentially saved her life now that she understood how Templars worked. She’d been training with Blackwall in particular to hone her swordsmanship, which had grown rusty from overusing her shouts, and she put that training to use against magic-dulling foes.

Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed a huge bruiser of a Templar wearing down a man she assumed was one of theirs. Before he could deliver a crushing blow to his off-balance victim, Hennig was throwing up a barrier. He couldn’t void a spell he didn’t see coming, after all. The blade bounced uselessly off of it, giving the man time to recover and launch a counter. After finishing off his opponent, he whipped around to find the source of his aid. Commander Cullen. Yes, despite the soot smudging his face, the frown was unmistakable.

“You fight?” she blurted in shock. In her defense, she hadn’t seen much of his sword-work the day he cut her down to size.

“Of course I do!” he snapped before running off to meet another wave of Templars. 

There was a lot riding on Hennig’s success, but she found herself unable to maintain her focus as she continued fighting, her attention divided between her opponents and Cullen fighting his own battles. By the Eight, he was in fact a natural warrior, unlike any commander she had ever seen in the Imperial Legion. If she thought she could outdo him with a sword, she was starting to get second thoughts. She both hated and loved that realization.

A call came up to regroup in the Chantry, and she found herself falling in next to Cullen as they retreated. In the chaos, she almost missed his words. “I suppose you are at least competent with the sword after all.” His eyes remained trained on the path before them, but she was certain she’d heard it. She would remind him of it later.

The mood once inside the chantry’s walls was grim. With that flying monstrosity, there was no way to defend themselves. Secretly escaping was the only way to save the innocent townspeople, but even that would take a distraction. Of course Trevelyan volunteered. “He’s after me,” she explained with a sad smile. “I can certainly bide you time.”

When Hennig studied the reactions of the Herald’s companions to this offer, she was shocked to find that Cullen was the most distraught, though he didn’t say a word. Oh. OH. The way he looked at her… the Commander had feelings for her! How could that be? Even if she was lovely and kind, she was a mage, and he was full of reservations about those! Yet all the evidence was there on his face when he realized she was going to throw her life away. He had to bite his lip to keep from protesting, because he no doubt knew this was the only choice

But was it? They were worried about a dragon, and she was the Dragonborn. She didn’t want to resort to using that power again, but Trevelyan didn’t deserve to die, nor did the other innocents. Perhaps in the chaos it would go unnoticed. “I will go with her. I have an idea for the dragon,” Hennig declared, stepping forward to stand at Trevelyan’s side.

“But Hennig, what could you-?”

“I’ll explain as we go. Come on, we don’t have time to lose.” She grabbed the woman’s hand and threw open the door, leaving the others confused.

VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV

She forced the beast to land using the dragon rend shout, and this allowed Trevelyan to get a clean hit on it with one of the trebuchets. Unfortunately, the rider was a monster in and of himself, and before Hennig could get to Trevelyan’s side, the Herald was forced to send another shot to trigger an avalanche. The enemy managed to get on his dragon and fly off before being swallowed by the snow, but the other two women were not so lucky. Only the tunnels beneath Haven saved them as they crashed through old walls.

It was also fortunate that Hennig hadn’t been fighting with magic that evening; she used her stores of magicka to heal Trevelyan and herself so they could make their way out from the tunnels and reunite with the rest of the Inquisition, with just enough left over to conjure a small flame to light the way. Hennig noted with an eye roll that as soon as Cullen, accompanied by a small search party, saw Trevelyan, he scooped her up and carried her bridal style the rest of the way to camp despite the fact that she was fully capable of walking thanks to her help. No one offered to help Hennig.

Things seemed hopeless now that their home base was destroyed, but Solas knew of a new place they could stay, and so they marched. The mission wasn’t over just because Trevelyan had sealed that big rift, contrary to their hopes. Now there was a concrete enemy, and Hennig would put him on par with Alduin himself. Oh Divines, it was happening, wasn’t it? She wasn’t just helping out due to convenience anymore; she was a part of this team that was going to save this world. How had it come to this?

The Inquisition settled in the ruins of Skyhold, and Hennig decided to stay behind while Trevelyan carried out a mission to Crestwood so she could use her restoration magic to help those injured. It was a thankless job, as many of the injured feared her magic, but she knew it would ease Trevelyan’s worries if nothing else.

It was on one such afternoon that she noticed a long shadow cover the cot of an unconscious man she was working on. She scowled, fatigued physically and mentally. “Hey, you’re blocking my light.”

“Apologies.” The shadow shifted, allowing her to better see the burn she was healing. The voice was deep, and sounded just as tired as she was. She couldn’t help but look up to find the source, and when she did, she swallowed. Commander Cullen.

“Commander, what brings you here?” She tried for nonchalance.

“I was just checking in on my soldiers. We lost…many of them back at Haven. There are still some who are healing. In fact, this man is one.” For the first time, sad eyes accompanied his frown. “So much destruction…”

“I suppose you won’t complain about my magic now that it is useful to you,” Hennig remarked dryly, returning her attention to the wounded soldier. “Then again, many of my patients have, so why would you be any different.”

There was a pause. “You have proven yourself. More than proven yourself. Hennig, was it?”

“That’s right.” The glow of her hands faded away as her job was finished. All they could do now was wait for his body to do the rest.

“Trevelyan trusts you.” Ah, there it was. Cullen probably worshipped the ground she walked on, judging by the glances he kept throwing her.

“Trevelyan also trusts Iron Bull, and he’s a self-declared Qunari spy. Much as I like the thought of you cutting me some slack, it isn’t quite a sound argument you make.”

To her shock, he gave a low chuckle. “Fair enough.” He turned and walked away. “I’m not so proud that I won’t say it. Thank you for helping my men.”

Now Hennig was flabbergasted. Who was this man, and what had he done with the Commander? “You really care about them, don’t you?”

Cullen paused and cast a look back with a furrowed brow. “Is that so strange to you?”

She shrugged, rising to her feet. “I’ve never seen a commander like that before.” No, Tullius had visualized his soldiers like pieces on a chessboard, cold and critical. He didn’t fight beside them. He didn’t mourn them.

“Then this ‘Tamriel’ you speak of is a strange place indeed.” He shook his head before taking his leave.

No, Thedas was a strange place indeed.

VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV

It finally happened. Trevelyan was still out in Crestwood when Hennig’s worst fear was realized: a dragon’s roar could be heard echoing in the mountains. Naturally, this led to wide-spread panic; even if a dragon hadn’t been involved in the destruction of their last base, it was her understanding that they were extremely rare and poorly understood in Thedas. Cassandra, of a famed family of dragon-slayers, was out in the field, as was Iron Bull, who after the attack on Haven admitted to having a fascination with the creatures. Please just let it be off in the distance somewhere… It was a blessing that Trevelyan had been the only one to witness her shout back at Haven, and that she was a loyal friend who swore to secrecy. If she had to defend the keep, there would be no hiding it.

Cullen wasn’t taking chances. He rallied his troops to the battlements with urgent commands. No doubt he was plagued with his own nightmares about Haven, much like hers with Helgen.

The dragon finally revealed itself, punching through the thick clouds with another angry roar. The response was screams of terror as innocents scrambled for shelter in the main hall. Any question of why it was there could be asked after the danger had passed. As it was, the decision of what to do was clear, even if it was regrettable. The Inquisition was weak, and they would not be able to handle this foe in their current condition. No matter how much Hennig wished to disappear into obscurity, it clearly was not meant to be.  
“Joor Zah Frul!” The winged terror was instantly stricken, forced to land thanks to its temporary debilitation. Sure, it took out several of the tents in the courtyard, but at least the injured had been evacuated. Hey, if she’d already done it once and everyone knew, why hold back? Let that Commander really see what she was capable of as she’d promised that day in Haven. “Mid Vur Shaan!” The swords and arrows of every ally began to glow, and soldiers were suddenly finding their blows quicker than normal. “Krii Lun Aus!” A sickly glow enveloped the downed dragon as the soldiers rained blows down on it. It shuddered. Finally, the overkill. “Mul Qah Diiv!” Hennig gained the aspect of a dragon itself as she moved in for the kill, plunging her blade deep into the creature’s skull with a roar that mirrored that of the slain beast.

She hadn’t expected it to happen here in Thedas too, but as soon as she gave the death blow, the ever-familiar rush of wind could be heard. Scales and flesh were stripped off the beast, leaving behind snow-white bones as its entire life-forced rushed into her body. Its soul was hers.

The silence that followed was deafening. She could feel hundreds of eyes staring at her, including HIS, and suddenly all she could think about was getting out of there as fast as possible and never coming back. They would either think her a monster or a savior, and she was not sure which was worse. Before they could decide, she was running.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And yes, as before, this is not over. I think I'd stir up some outrage if I left it like that!


	3. Tentative Friends

It was silly to run when she had no idea where to go. In fact, she had nowhere to go past that mountain. Her only connections in all of Thedas were with the Inquisition. In the end, she decided to sneak back into Skyhold once the sun set and hope no one caught her until the commotion died down.

There was one problem, and he was sitting at the fortress’s gate.

Cullen jumped to his feet as he saw her approach. “Hennig?”

Of course. Why would this be easy? “How do your words taste, Commander?” she sneered, hoping to steer the conversation the way she wanted.

He tilted his head in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“You specifically told me I was nothing you hadn’t seen before, remember? And I said I’d make you eat those words. So, how do they taste?” She wanted to brush by him, but she wanted the answer even more.

His face contorted with frustration. “I can’t quell that type of magic, can I? It’s like nothing we’ve ever seen in all of Thedas.”

“Correct. It comes from dragons, in case you were wondering. I steal their souls and take their powers. All kinds of things, like fire breath and ice breath, turning ethereal and crossing huge distances in the blink of an eye. What you saw is just a small sampling of what I can do after all my travels back home.” If she was going to be outed, she was at least going to blow his mind with this information.

She was pleased to see his shoulders slump. “You could have destroyed me that day, but instead I walked away thinking I was the stronger one. Why? Why didn’t you use that dragon power then?”

“Because look what a scene it caused when I used it today!” Hennig exclaimed in exasperation. “I’m so tired of everyone making a big deal about it. Even back home it was a rare gift. It was like…what the mark is to Trevelyan here in Thedas. I was trying to go back to being just me, a Breton spell-sword, but my reputation followed me everywhere. Now, even in a completely different world, it’ll follow me here too.”

Before she could storm off, he voiced a second question. “Do you regret revealing it?”

Now it was her turn to have her shoulders slump. “It had to be done. Besides, Trevelyan already knew; it’s how I tried to fight that crystal dragon thing back in Haven. If it saved lives, it was worth it. Just a sacrifice is all.”

As she disappeared into the night, Cullen was left with too many thoughts. He thought about the shocking strength she had kept hidden. He thought how her struggle to hide her unwanted power mirrored the struggle he had been having with his lyrium addiction. Most of all, he thought about how inspiring and fierce she had looked as she stormed into battle against that dragon. It was like her true form revealed, kind of like those old legends about mythical beasts taking human guise. The only thing he knew for sure was that he was glad she was on their side.

VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV

Once Trevelyan returned, things were very different. Obviously, the first difference was the way everyone whispered reverently about the Inquisitor’s other-worldly ally. It didn’t take much for Trevelyan to put two and two together, knowing what she did about her companion. The dragon bones decorating the Great Hall were another big clue. Hennig was taking it about as well as could be expected, pretending to ignore the comments and brushing off the praise. She doggedly continued her work healing, though there were fewer patients by the day.

The second big change was in Trevelyan, specifically between her and the Iron Bull. The flirting was becoming obvious. While Hennig dismissed it as the result of some bonding time while out on their missions, Trevelyan confided later that when she’d been forced to choose between a Qunari alliance and saving his Chargers, she’d chosen the latter. He was actually relieved and was going to stick around despite no longer being a spy. That made Hennig feel much better about the mercenary and his growing relationship with her friend. She didn’t a hundred percent trust him yet, but that percentage had spiked substantially.

Not all were pleased by the Iron Bull’s gains. The third change was in the Commander, who had become withdrawn and moody. Hennig noticed he no longer sought out the Inquisitor, but his eyes would still follow her sadly, usually as she scurried over to the tavern to meet with her crush. It must be a tough loss, she admitted, a ruggedly handsome military advisor losing the girl to a crude bruiser who was being PAID to be there. She almost felt sorry for him. Almost.

Now, why had she just put ‘handsome’ and ‘Cullen’ in the same thought?

VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV

One day, she found him in the garden as she went to pick some medicinal herbs. He was seated at a table across from that flashy mage from Tevinter, with a chess board between them. “I believe that is checkmate,” he reported, a certain smugness she hadn’t heard in quite some time edging into his voice.

“Kaffas, I guess you aren’t a military advisor for nothing!” His competition threw his hands in the air in defeat.

Hennig watched the scene from the corner of her eye as she gathered what she needed. Once the mage departed, and as he began packing up the pieces, she found herself sliding into the vacated seat across from him. “Try that again.”

Cullen quirked an eyebrow. “You play?”

“I’m decent. We’ll find out if you are more than decent. I have no idea if Dorian was an actual challenge for you.”

“Hmph, he has a keen mind. Maybe you should beat him before you worry about beating me.”

Why did he always succeed in raising her blood pressure? Then again, she should be grateful he wasn’t tip-toing around her after realizing she could shout him to Oblivion. That was what she wanted after all. “Dorian isn’t here. You are.” She grabbed the black set of pieces from the box and began arranging them on her half of the board.

“If you insist, but remember, this was your idea.” Cullen began arranging his own pawns, the corner of his mouth twitching upwards into a smirk.

The words came from her before she knew it. “I haven’t seen that look on you for a while now. Feeling better?”

Cullen froze. “Had I been poorly?”

“Like a love-sick teenager. Very mopey.” With a resolute click, Hennig moved her first pawn.

Now his eyes narrowed in anger. “I was tired is all.”

She was this close to responding with ‘tired of the Iron Bull’, but even she knew that would be a low blow. “All right, whatever you say.” Her eyes followed his movement on the board. “It’s a shame. I thought that if you were going to remain so dejected, I would have to spar with you to reinvigorate you. Not necessary now, I see.” Click.

“You still believe you are a match for me with a sword? I would be teaching you.” Click.

“I’ve been working with Blackwall for some time now to improve. You know, to compensate for not using that whole ‘shouting with dragon speech’ thing.” Click.

“Not content to stick with your spells? It would stoke Dorian’s ego something terrible if you asked him to work with you on them.” Click.

“I can’t defeat our Templar enemies with spells. More importantly, I can’t defeat you with spells.” Click.

Suddenly, Cullen’s momentum came to a crashing halt, hand hovering over the piece. She sensed an internal struggle, though she couldn’t imagine what she’d said was that scandalous. Finally, he lowered his hand. “You could now.”

Hennig blinked in confusion. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Cullen averted his gaze to somewhere over the ramparts. “I will only tell you this because you are the one who put the idea into my head. You’re not the only one with powers you’d rather not use. After seeing what you were capable of against that dragon, and knowing you refused to rely on that power lest you lose yourself to it…” He ran his fingers through his hair. “Lyrium gives me the power to cancel spells, though I’m not sure you understand what that is.”

“Trevelyan has told me a bit,” Hennig offered.

“Lyrium also drives people mad after they use it long enough. It is an addiction, one I have wished to be rid of for quite some time. However, I thought I needed it.” His eyes fell back to the board and he made his move.

Hennig was still stuck on this revelation. “So you’re going to go off of it?”

“I’ve already started. If I appear ‘mopey’, that’s part of it.”

Suddenly, she wanted the ground to swallow her up. “I…I’m sorry. I had no idea.”

“You weren’t wrong, of course. There are other things. Now, are you going to move?” he prompted, hoping to change the topic of conversation.

Hennig glanced down before sliding her piece. “Well, if you don’t have the power to cancel spells anymore, you’ll have to train harder than ever. Meaning, we should still spar.”

Cullen gave her a strange look before moving his pawn. “You mean that?”

“Yeah. It would be good for me to get advice from someone else. And I still think it would, uh, brighten you up a bit, lashing out at me.”

“Hmm, something to consider. Also…” he smirked again. Divines, that was getting infuriating. “Checkmate.”

“Che-what?!” When Hennig studied the board, she realized he was not lying. “Sweet breath of Arkay, you distracted me!”

“Excuses.” Cullen rose. “Perhaps we’ll need to train at chess as well.”

Now it was her turn to scowl.

VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV

Trevelyan had brought news from the Warden in Crestwood about a strange ritual in the Western Approach. Hennig quickly volunteered to assist in crashing it, though once she arrived, the climate was enough to make her regret that offer. Hotter than the sands of Hammerfell! They pushed through and found Wardens sacrificing each other at an ancient altar, presided over by some Venatori lunatic. It seemed the cult had bigger plans at Adamant Fortress. Trevelyan and company captured the leader and headed back to Skyhold to piece together an assault that would put an end to their plot to raise a darkspawn army.

Shortly upon their return, Hennig met with Cullen for an afternoon sparring session as she’d promised. He’d agreed to it surprisingly quickly, but during their bout, she found herself landing hits she shouldn’t have, and it was clear the reason was his distraction.

“Commander! What’s weighing on your mind? Or are you actually this poor of a swordsman? I’d thought otherwise,” she prodded, lowering her weapon.

“I’m…thinking about Adamant,” he admitted, much to her shock. She’d expected he’d perhaps deny the accusation, or deflect it elsewhere, as he usually did. She in particular wasn’t one he’d confided in before. “The fortress is nearly impregnable. I just can’t figure out a way to get inside without getting countless men and women killed in the process.”

“It’s just a wall. Walls can be brought down.”

Cullen pursed his lips. “We’ll try to get siege equipment, but still… We’ll be vulnerable to ranged attacks from the walls while we try to break in.” In a burst of frustration, he buried his sword into the ground. “I just don’t see what other choices we have.”

Hennig felt a familiar pull, a yearning to help that just wouldn’t leave her alone. This is what she’d been hoping to avoid, the use of her power in other people’s fights! Still, if it would save the lives of the Inquisition soldiers and help save the world… “What if I blast a hole in the wall?”

He remained skeptical. “Your magic is strong enough to do that? I doubt it; the place has held against waves of darkspawn in the past.”

“I will shout it down, just like Tiber Septim and the walls of old Hroldan.” Hennig squared her shoulders. “Like Ulfric and the walls of Markarth.”

For the first time, Cullen dared to look hopeful. “You have a power to blow things up?”

“More like use enough force to turn stone to dust. I don’t use that shout often; it is too easy to get an innocent caught in the middle of it.” A flash of doubt crossed her face, reminding Cullen of how she’d rather not have to use that power. Even knowing that, he still couldn’t bring himself to dissuade her.

“If you’d come, I…would be in your debt.”

Between the hesitation in his voice and the way he averted his eyes, Hennig knew this admission went against every fiber in his body. So different from the proud warrior that stood scowling over her that first afternoon in Haven. The words escaped, unbidden. “You truly worry about your soldiers, don’t you?”

He stiffened. “I take my role as Commander very seriously. A poor decision on my part means unnecessary death, and every one of those soldiers has family and friends. I still don’t know why that concept is so difficult for you to comprehend.”

“You do realize that wasn’t an accusation, right?” Hennig sighed, finally sheathing her sword. “I’ll do it. For the soldiers, of course. Write me into your strategy notes or whatever you military leader-types do.” With a final wave, she walked away, ending their sparring session before it ever truly began. They both had a lot of thinking to do.


	4. Enemies Again

First, they’d thought the campaign a great success. With Hennig on the front line, the walls came down just as she’d advertised, leading to an efficient infiltration of the fort and relatively few fatalities.

Then, that damned dragon showed up, and somewhere in the chaos, the Inquisitor and her squad fell into a rift. In all fairness, that was probably better than falling to their doom as they would have otherwise, but Hennig seemed to be the only one not convinced they were all dead. She’d gone through a rift personally and survived, after all, so why couldn’t Trevelyan do the same thing? There simply was no knowing where she’d turn up.

As fate would have it, she turned up with her squad right in the middle of Adamant fort. True, they had some unpleasant business to deal with regarding the Wardens, but afterwards… Who knew the Wardens had such vintage casks in storage? The celebrating was unreal as soldiers got themselves properly drunk around impromptu bonfires. It was well deserved. Hennig would have let loose too if not for the nagging memory of what had gotten her stuck in Thedas in the first place. Only a flagon or two for her, then she’d call it a night.

As she casually sipped her ale, she spotted Trevelyan off to the side with Bull. How she’d managed to slip away from the crowd’s attention she couldn’t guess, but she was glad for it. What surprised her more though was how shaken up the normally relaxed Bull looked. Just what had happened between when they’d disappeared and reappeared? She was doing her best to soothe him, rubbing his muscular biceps gently and leaning in close to share some private words. If Hennig could see it, so could anyone. Either they were too tired to care, or they were ready to be obvious about their budding relationship in public.

“Hennig!”

She jolted, nearly spilling her beverage. “Commander?” Indeed it was, though he’d stripped himself of his armor and wiped the blood spatters from his face. Without that ridiculous furry mantle, he could have been mistaken for any normal man, save for the famous scar adorning his upper lip.

“Look at this!” He came to stand beside her and gestured to the merry chaos surrounding them with the hand not holding a flagon. “All these men and women, alive in no small part due to what you did. Maker’s Breath, the way you shouted at that wall…”

Hennig scratched the back of her head awkwardly. “Yeah, like one does…” Sweet Kynareth, why was he standing so close? It was weird on so many levels.

“No, like no one else can do. It was a thing of beauty.” He turned the brunt of his amber gaze to her, and she was stunned by just how clouded those eyes were. The flush on his cheeks also hinted that he had been hitting those kegs a bit too hard. That explained a lot, but it also seemed highly unusual that one as disciplined as the Commander would allow himself to fall into such a state. He’d make a fool of himself yet and regret it tomorrow. “I can’t tell you how grateful I am to you for offering your help. At the very least, let me get you another round!”

“No, I’m good with just this, thank you. But I appreciate the thought.”

“Oh come now, Hennig, you deserve it!” His broad hand came to rest on her shoulder, and she froze. The aloof general NEVER made physical contact like this, at least not with her.

“You’re awfully friendly tonight…”

“Of course! We won a huge victory! What’s got you so sullen?”

“Sullen?!”

“Yeah. The battle’s won, so lighten up!”

“Lighten up? That advice, coming from you?” She snorted. “You aren’t acting yourself, that’s why I’m hesitant, not sullen.”

“You think I can’t have fun? I can be just as fun as…” He never finished, but he didn’t have to, because Hennig was observant and clever. He’d let slip just enough.

“Be fun without getting drunk and I’ll believe you.” She turned to leave, but he grabbed her by the arm. Big mistake.

“What’s so wrong about wanting to enjoy your company?” he blurted.

“One, you will let go of my arm before I blast you like I did that wall,” she threatened darkly, eyes narrowed. Even inebriated he had the good sense to obey, and as quickly as if she were suddenly scalding him. “Two, you don’t want my company, you want Trevelyan’s company. I’m not interested in being a replacement for someone else, do I make myself clear?”

His jaw dropped. He then made a terrible mistake as he scrambled to grasp at what remained of his dignity. “You could never replace Trevelyan; you’d have to be a lady in order to do that!”

First, he was assailed with the rest of Hennig’s ale, earning himself a face-full so it ran sticky trails down his chest and made his tunic reek of the stuff. Almost immediately after, the flagon came sailing and hit him upside the head. That would leave quite the welt, one he would have great difficulty explaining away… By the time he came to some semblance of sense, Hennig was long gone.

VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV

“Hennig, I don’t know what’s been going on between you and Commander Cullen lately, but he really needs your help!”

Hennig just snorted, turning away from Trevelyan to continue reading the book on the Fade she’d borrowed from Skyhold’s library. “He should have considered he might need my help before insulting me. Though, then again…” She huffed, giving up and snapping the book shut with a resounding clap. “I told myself I wouldn’t let people walk all over me and my powers again, but I went and did it anyways. Serves me right.”

When she looked up at Trevelyan, she saw the absolute confusion and concern on her fair features. She greatly disliked conflict, which was unfortunate given that as the Inquisitor she was put in the middle of the greatest conflicts in all of Thedas. “Is this about Adamant? Should I not have had you use your shout?”

“No, it’s about what happened after Adamant. And to put your mind at ease, don’t worry that I regret helping, because I don’t. I used my shout for all those soldiers and for you, just not for that arrogant prick. He doesn’t get any more favors.”

Trevelyan gaped at the harsh language. “Hennig!”

Hennig raised an eyebrow. “But do humor me, Trevelyan, and tell me what he wants now. If it’s about healing more of his soldiers, that’s fine; I wouldn’t have them pay the price due to the insufferable nature of their Commander.”

Trevelyan held up her hands. “Please, Hennig, I get that he’s upset you but…if you won’t heal him in order to help him, heal him in order to help me. He’s the general of my armies, though I’d just as soon do it because he’s my friend.”

Friend, huh? She wondered how he’d feel to hear those words from the woman he was enamored with. “Heal him? What did he do, bruise his ego?”

Trevelyan looked left and right before leaning closer to whisper. “He’s dealing with some very terrible lyrium withdrawals. I understand the pain is hard to fathom. We’ve tried some healing potions, but nothing short of giving him lyrium again seems to work. I thought that perhaps your foreign style of magic might have an effect.”

True, priests and priestesses of Kynareth had been known to ease the pain of those suffering withdrawals from skooma using restoration magic, but still… The thought of having to place her hands on him made her cringe. “Have you seen him for yourself?” Trevelyan nodded solemnly. Damn, there really was no getting out of this, not when her friend with a million worries asked it of her. “Fine. But just remember…” she pointed a finger at the Inquisitor, “I’m doing this for you, not for him!”

VVVVVVVVVVVVVV

Before she could even open the door to his office, she heard glass shattering from within, accompanied by an anguished roar. That would explain why the ramparts here were vacant; they wanted to give him the dignity of private suffering. Well, that or they were afraid. Hennig was not. Without even bothering to knock, she grabbed the handle and threw open the door, causing the man inside to wince at the bright light shining into the darkness of his domain. It sparkled against the shards of glass littering the floor.

He managed to open his eyes a fraction. “Maker’s Breath, what do you want!” he snarled as soon as he realized who it was. “I am not in the mood to spar!”

“Spar? As if I’d want to spar with you! What I want is to get this over with!” she snapped back, not even bothering to speak softly to ease the pain of his headache. “Trevelyan asked me to come use some restoration magic on you so you wouldn’t be hurting so badly. Hold still and let me get this over with; I’m not looking forward to it any more than you.”

As she stepped forward, he stepped backward, nearly tripping on his overturned desk chair in the process. “I don’t need your help! I can handle this. This is my burden to bear!”

Hennig paused, raising a skeptical eyebrow. “You’d rather have your pride than some relief from the torment, huh? Rather the feeling of a thousand needles piercing your brain than to have me place my hands on you?”

His eyes were dark, and the way he stood hunched over with that furry mantle on his shoulders gave him the appearance of a feral dog. “I can get along just fine without you!”

“But if Trevelyan offered,” Hennig taunted, taking another menacing step closer, “you’d accept that help in a heartbeat.” She was playing a dangerous game; she knew very well that people in deep withdrawals were capable of desperate acts, yet here she was goading him on. This must be that stupid dragon nature at work again, enjoying the sport.

“Don’t you dare speak of the Inquisitor!” Another step back as his eyes flashed in warning, his voice coming out as a low growl. He was trying his best to cage his fury, but what good would that do either of them? It was a venom, and it had to be removed from his system along with the lyrium. She would see to it. A carefully placed barb, wounding, giving it the space it needed to ooze out, because surely this wasn’t motivated by her own selfish desire, was it?

“I will speak of her whenever I please. She is my friend. You are the one that shouldn’t speak of her. You simply place her up on a pedestal and worship at her feet.” She paused for effect, lining up her shot. “That’s why she didn’t choose you.”

The words hit home, and his reaction was instant. What he intended to do, she was uncertain, but he lunged at her, no longer able to hold back. It wasn’t as if he viewed her as a lady, delicate and protected by honor from a punch to the face… She was prepared to grapple with him, but found herself unprepared for his momentum. Foolish not to realize that a tall, muscular physique did not pair well with raw rage. “Bitch! You enjoy watching me suffer, don’t you?”

“I came to heal you, idiot!” She struggled to keep her footing, but kept her face schooled so it didn't show. “If I wanted you suffering, I’d leave you to rot with your withdrawals AND your delusions!”

“You would if you were given the choice! Is that part of being tied to dragons? Enjoying tormenting others?” He didn’t realize that he was shouting by this point as he struggled to gain ground. 

Perhaps if she focused, she could start channeling her restoration magic to subdue him. Damn, she’d expected to set off an explosion, but not one this wildly unpredictable. “I don’t enjoy tormenting everyone, just those that deserve it.”

“And I deserve salt in my wounds while my entire body feels as if it is on fire? No. You…you are a monster, Hennig. You’re worse than the dragons!”

Just like that, she was the one snapping. The words burst forth without conscious thought. “Gaan Lah Haas!” Cullen froze in surprise, and she got a sick sense of satisfaction from seeing the way his eyes frantically scanned the area looking for the effect of the shout. He would never see the invisible effect, but he certainly felt it as his legs suddenly gave out, his grip falling away.

“What have you done?!” he hissed, barely strong enough to give voice to the question plaguing him. His whole body was trembling, though whether it was from the shout or the withdrawal symptoms she couldn’t tell.

“Drain vitality. Now, you will hold still and allow me to do my job.” Hennig’s hands began to glow as she focused on her restoration magic. “I will not be able to help with the ‘salt in the wounds’, but I will make sure your body doesn’t feel as if it is on fire. Then you can get back to your job and quit moping over Trevelyan. You are not right for her.”

“Leave me alone…” But the sharp edge was gone. He was defeated in body and spirit.

So, why did she feel as if she were the one who had been defeated? As she set to work, she avoided looking anywhere near his face. He’d made her lose control, drawn the shout from her throat. She hadn’t escaped her nature at all despite her best efforts. Maybe she really was a monster.


	5. Rebuilding Bridges

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A strange turn of events in Halamshiral

If she hadn’t grown up in Wayrest, arguably the capital of intrigue in Tamriel, she’d be completely unprepared for the politics involved at this elaborate gala in Halamshiral. As it was, the way Trevelyan described the Game to her made it sound twice as dramatic as anything out of High Rock. It was probably the masks.

Hennig hated the look of the matching suits they wore to the event, but appreciated the practicality of this choice in wardrobe once she, Trevelyan, and the others in the entourage were slicing up would-be assassins in moon-lit courtyards. Nothing could ever be simple, there just had to be multiple plots intertwining and interfering with each other. Everyone wanted someone dead, but unlike the battlefield, they wouldn’t confront their enemy face-to-face. It was draining, and as the clock struck, marking their party as fashionably late to the main dance, Hennig couldn’t help but anticipate a strong glass of whatever alcohol they were serving. She went on ahead, leaving Trevelyan to fuss over Bull and the dried spatters of blood he’d managed to get on his skin. She figured the Inquisitor may as well leave it and start a new fashion: wearing the blood of your political enemies.

As she entered the ballroom, she scanned the area to see how the others left behind were faring. Josie looked exasperated as she attempted to corral her younger sister, and Leliana seemed to be in her element as she flitted about making small talk. As for Cullen… It was still hard to even look at him. It triggered a sense of shame, knowing that she’d let him get under her skin, as well as knowing that he was successfully breaking himself of his lyrium addiction while she still couldn’t refrain from shouting in the heat of the moment. After she’d healed him that afternoon, she hadn’t heard of any further complaints, though perhaps Trevelyan was informed of what had gone down and no longer wanted her services to be employed. Either way, he was apparently well enough to be brought to this arena, where a lapse in judgement would be scandalous.

Perhaps he wished he hadn’t. It didn’t take any expert player of the Game to read the discomfort etched on his features as countless women of the court closed in on him, demurely fanning themselves as they wormed their way into his personal space. What they were saying to him, she could only guess, but it was making him blush something fierce. This…this was wrong. Commander Cullen didn’t belong here with a wine glass pressed into his gloved hand and suit, done up like a toy soldier; he needed his armor, his sword, his scowl. He needed to deflect those hangers-on with a good old-fashioned shield bash. The lion was made a kitten, and that had to stop.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the announcer, who informed the room that it was time for a dance. When she looked back to Cullen, she noticed to her shock that several women were tugging him in different directions, apparently fighting over who would dance with him. She was flying across the room before she knew what she was doing.

“Excuse me,” she insisted loudly. She didn’t physically force her way through, but her words held enough promise of force that the women all froze at once. “The Commander and I have business on the dance floor.” Before he could protest, she was dragging him away where all the others had failed. She heard one of the women murmur behind her fan about her being the rumored “Dragonborn”. Well, let their idle gossip keep them company. She was just happy they hadn’t decided to fight her about her intrusion, causing a scene. If that had happened, she wasn’t sure how much effort she was willing to invest in freeing him.

“What are you-“ Cullen stammered once they were out of earshot.

“Rescuing you. That looked like more pain than I would wish on anyone save Corypheus himself.” She turned to stare him down, expression flat. “You’re welcome. Unless, of course, I misread the situation and you would have actually preferred to be fawned on by those half-wits rather than suffer a dance with me.”

They stared each other down for a few seconds before Cullen reached out to place a heavy hand on her waist. His movements were positively ginger, as if one touch and he would be punched in the face for his impudence. His other found her hand, and she quickly assumed proper ballroom position. “That’s…oddly kind of you, all things considered.”

“Yes, I suppose it is.” She sniffed in distaste as they began the practiced steps Josie had drilled into their heads in the week leading up to this event. The dances of Thedas were at least similar to those of Tamriel, and if her inept partner had more skill, she was confident they would have lit up the dance floor. Instead, she was at the mercy of his wooden movements. “I’m a bit shocked you would accept my offer, seeing as I’m no lady…”

Cullen’s brow furrowed. “Maker’s breath, are you STILL sore about that?”

“Never insult a woman’s vanity, even if that woman is a monster.” She looked away at some interesting point in the room as they continued their motions, two people moving in sync despite being in two separate worlds.

It was hard to tell in the painful silence that followed whether he was thinking of a response or simply needed to focus on his footwork. Finally, he spoke. “I was out of my head that day, in so much pain. I don’t remember half the things I said or did, but it seems they were pretty terrible. All I know is that I am feeling much better now, and I owe it to you. You’re…” He swallowed, the words coming with great difficulty. “You’re too kindhearted to be a monster. What you did back there only proves it further.”

That, she figured, was probably as close to an apology as she was going to get from such a stubborn fool, even if it was less than adequate. “Fine, but even though I’m not a monster, I’m still not a lady. I realize this outfit is not helping my cause, but if I were allowed to wear a real ball gown…”

“I doubt I’d recognize you.”

And that was the problem. She was a knight-enchanter, an apostate, and the Dragonborn above all else. He may tentatively use her name tonight, but he didn’t see her for who she was at all. “I doubt you would.”

The music came to an end, resulting in polite applause for the orchestra and the couples on the floor. She stepped back quickly, leaving Cullen’s arms hanging uselessly at his sides. “Hopefully they can take a hint and leave you alone now, but if they can’t, it’s up to you how much you want to play this up.”

“Wait, Hennig! About what I said at Adamant…”

She didn’t want to hear about Adamant, especially now of all times. There was too much riding on this mission for her to be distracted by her own feelings. “I’ve got to go. We rendezvous with Trevelyan in a few minutes.” She hurried away, leaving him there on the dance floor attempting to process the whole absurd situation in which he found himself.

VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV

“All right, I’ll start. Something easy, to get us warmed up. Which color do I prefer: lavender or aqua?”

The Bull rolled his one eye. “Do you want us to get drunk or not? You have to think of something harder!” Trevelyan just raised an eyebrow, not budging. “Fine. Lavender.”

The rest of the companions all chimed in their answers, including Hennig. If she hadn’t already known just from spending any time with Trevelyan, she’d have followed Bull’s lead on the question. He really shouldn’t be allowed to answer about Trevelyan first. 

Being that everyone guessed correctly, no one ended up taking a shot. This was the activity Bull had suggested when Trevelyan complained about needing to unwind after the Halamshiral affair. A simple concept, able to be carried out in the carriage as they traveled back to Skyhold. It surprised Hennig a bit that she would agree to a drinking game, but then again Bull did have a habit of pushing her boundaries in all the ways that she needed. That was why they worked well together.

When everyone got the answer right, she simply shrugged. “All right, Hennig, your turn.”

“Hmm…let me think.” She rubbed her chin thoughtfully. “Okay, which of the Eight Divines do I favor more: Akatosh or Julianos?”

Trevelyan groaned, and all the others echoed her. “Hennig, that’s not a fair question at all! We don’t have any idea who either of those are!”

Hennig grinned mischievously. “Then I guess you have a fifty-fifty shot. That’ll get this game moving faster.”

“Fine, I guess...Akatosh?”

One by one the others in the carriage offered tentative answers. Then, it fell to Cullen. He still couldn’t bear to look at her, it seemed, as he turned his gaze to the floor. “Whichever one is represented by that pendent you always wear.”

It wasn’t the statement that made her blush as much as it was the fact that Cullen had paid enough attention to notice that detail about her. “I suppose I should credit him for that answer, huh Trevelyan?”

She nodded with a smile. “So, what was the answer?”

“Julianos.”

Trevelyan pouted a bit as Bull offered up the bottle. He’d guessed the opposite. Damn ex-Ben-Hassereth could probably read the most subtle of tells. He was going to win every round, wasn’t he? Of course that was why he suggested this game!

“Is Julianos a god of war?”

Cullen’s quiet question surprised her. What did he care of her religious beliefs? The man was all about Andraste and the Maker, who dominated the religious scene in this part of the world. It was that religion that put him into conflict with her where magic was concerned. Maybe it was an accusation. Yes, it was probably an accusation based on her martial prowess. “We don’t have a god of war in the Breton culture,” she shook her head. “Julianos is the Divine that represents magic and scholarly pursuits. Most people back home assume I would favor Akatosh, because he is the Divine that created the dragons and who theoretically blessed me with those abilities, but I was worshipping Julianos long before that.”

“So you believe in many gods?”

To that question, she found the nerve to stare him dead in the eye. “Believe me, after all that I’ve been through, I don’t just believe in the Divines, I KNOW they exist. Whether or not they exist here in this world, I don’t know. Perhaps it truly is just the Maker and Andraste in this reality.”

“Are we done discussing theology? I’m getting thirsty,” Bull grumbled, interrupting the conversation.

“Yes, let’s keep going. Commander, why don’t you take the next question?” Hennig challenged. 

He was surprised to note a new sparkle of interest. It must be the thought of competition. Yes, it was probably just competition and the prospect of thrashing him yet again. “I have a lucky item that I carry with me. Is it a prayer stone or a coin?”

Knowing how devout he was, most of the others guessed the former. Hennig, however, had other ideas. “If you truly believed in the Maker, you would not use a prayer stone for luck. Superstition should not bleed into religion. I guess a coin.”

Bull chuckled. “Well played, Hennig. I was going to guess the same thing.”

Cullen scowled, digging into his pocket to pull out the coin in question. Even if most of the others had been tricked, Hennig had not. He was going to stump her yet.

As they continued their game, the carriage ride went much, much faster. If Trevelyan hadn’t been such a light-weight and if she hadn’t gotten so many questions wrong, she’d have been clear-headed enough to notice how hyper-aware of each other Cullen and Hennig were, and how few questions they’d gotten wrong about each other. She’d also have pointed that out. Bull, on the other hand… He didn’t need his Ben-Hassereth training to see where this was going.


	6. What in the Maker's Name Is This?!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tensions reach a breaking point. 
> 
> A.K.A. The moment you've all been waiting for.

With the Empress saved and the Wardens brought to heel, the advisors wasted no time in planning the next attack. Somehow, there they were fighting back Corypheus’s army of Red Templars in the Arbor Wilds within the month, intent on pressing their advantage. Trevelyan went ahead to the Temple of Mythal with Morrigan and her team, leaving Hennig at the front lines with the rest of the troops under Cullen’s direction. Cullen…it must be killing him sending her off so sparsely protected, and Hennig didn’t doubt he would fight like ten men to keep the enemy at bay. As for her, no using her shouts, for real this time. Never had her swordsmanship been sharper as she cut down enemy after enemy, honed by this point to a fine edge.

When did it happen, then? Had she been so caught up in the dance of death that she’d allowed those few Templars to slip behind her in the thick vegetation and get the jump on her? And why had she strayed so far from the main formation to pursue them? They could have ended her, just another casualty of the bloody battle and not some figure of legend. 

They knew better. Before she could react, a thick cloth was being pulled tight against her mouth. She could no longer shout even if she chose to now, and that was the point, she supposed. On an instinct, she attempted to lash out at her captors with magic, but unlike Cullen, these Templars still had their ability to nullify her spells. All that was left to her was thrashing, and this was quickly quelled as well with heavy chains to hold her fast. The dragon had been caught in the snare.

“Excellent. The Master will be pleased with our success in taking this so-called ‘Dragon-Born’.” She was jostled as they began to drag her into the undergrowth despite her fiercest struggles. “With enough tests, she should yield her secrets for the glory of Corypheus!”

So that was it. She was to be experimented on, no doubt tortured. Death, even anti-climactic, would have been preferable. In one last act of desperation, she screamed through the gag.

Her enemies did not go flying, nor was she able to singe them to ashes. However, upon her scream, one of the Templars grabbing her by the forearm was decapitated. His blood spattered on her, but she barely noticed; she was staring in shock at the ferocious soldier whose blade had done the damage. That was now moving on to the next enemy. As soon as the grip on her loosened, she collapsed to the damp earth, trembling as she beheld the unbridled fury of Cullen let loose on her captors. The roar he let out as he swung his blade rivaled her own.

There were no words for a time. He wasted none as he finished killing each and every Templar that had touched her, and once that was accomplished, he just panted heavily as his surge of adrenaline wore off. Finally, he turned to her, and the look in his eyes made her feel sick, as if he saw her as some kind of undeserving animal caught in a trap. It wasn’t far from the truth.

“I couldn’t find you,” he finally began, like he had to explain himself as he bent down to search the corpses for the key to her chains. “I went to where I last saw you, left the clearing. I heard you scream even though it wasn’t too loud.” Stop, stop talking! She didn’t want to know that he had been looking out for her, didn’t want to hear that her rescue had been anything but an accident. She didn’t want to be some damsel in distress that needed saving from HIM. He found the key and hurried to her side so he could free her from her binds. “I had no idea they’d turned their gaze to you, or I’d never have assigned you to the front line…”

Her free hand pulled the cloth from her mouth. “I belong on the front line and you know it! You need me!”

“But…you won’t use your shouts. If you had…”

“I don’t need my shouts to be a good warrior! I won’t rely on them! I know I’ve been doing a lousy job sticking to that, but I mean it. Being reckless with my shouts is what got me stuck here in the first place!”

Cullen looked troubled. “Is being here such a horrible thing?” He held out a hand to help her up, but she refused, scrambling to her feet on her own.

“It’s…I don’t know. Let’s just get back, all right?”

She turned away, unable to bear the sight of him, but his voice still rattled her. “Very well. But when we get back to Skyhold….well,” he paused, chuckling darkly, “I should say IF we get back to Skyhold, you and I still have unfinished business in the sparring ring. Meet me there when the moon is at its peak.”

Hennig was almost certain that the business he was thinking of had nothing to do with swordsmanship, but she did know that she needed to resolve that business before it drove her mad. “As you wish.”

VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV

Just as he’d said, he was waiting for her the very first night after their triumphant return to Skyhold. A few patrons could be heard caterwauling over in Herald’s Rest, but otherwise the courtyard was deserted. He held a sword in his hand, dulled for use in the training yard, and once he caught sight of her, he pulled a second from where it was stabbed into the ground. “If I remember correctly, our first spar was unfair, and our second was cut short before it ever began. I want to see what you are made of,” he spoke quietly, holding out the weapon to her. She took it resolutely.

“I feel the same.” She took a few steps back while continuing to face him. “You without your lyrium, and me without my shouting. On your guard, Commander Rutherford.” Without another word, she was lunging at him. His response was as quick as she’d anticipated as he deflected her opening blow.

“To the point, I see. I’d expect nothing less.”

“And you acting all superior, as I’d expect.” She tried a few more blows from different angles, but he deflected them all. She could see the experience in his efficient movements. He may be growing older, and she may have the advantage of stamina, but he compensated for it.

“Is that how you think of me?”

“You’ve not given me a reason to think otherwise, have you?”

Hennig nearly lost her balance when Cullen suddenly made his first move. “I suppose that’s what happens when you are the Military Commander of the entire Inquisition. You have to look and act the part.”

She regained her footing and angled the blows away. “I much prefer you attacking me, literally, if I’m being honest. You look like you care about my demise with your entire being.”

His pause caught her off guard. “Sweet Maker, I don’t want your demise, Hennig!”

“Then what do you want?” she demanded, louder than she would have liked as she came in swinging. That was what it boiled down to, didn’t it? She couldn’t figure him out, and she couldn’t understand why that bothered her so much.

“I want to kiss you, damn it!”

The words rang in her ears as her body involuntarily froze. She barely felt it as he knocked the blade from her useless hands. “What?!”

Cullen groaned and rubbed his forehead with his free hand. “That was an unfair move, that doesn’t count…”

“No no no, back to what you just said. You want to WHAT?!”

He narrowed his brows. “I said I wanted to kiss you. When you flash that challenging look I want to take you and pin you down and kiss you.”

Now Hennig laughed nervously. “I’m certain it’s just because you’re trying not to think about Trevelyan. I know I’m just a distraction to you, and that’s all I’ll ever be.” Her words sped up as they tumbled from her mouth. “I’m just a mage that doesn’t follow your rules and picks fights with you. There’s no way you feel anything for the likes of me.”

“I don’t know what I feel!” Cullen rammed his sword into the ground in frustration. “It’s completely different than what I felt for Trevelyan. I wanted her, make no mistake about that. But you…I…I don’t’ want you, I need you. I can’t sleep because you haunt my thoughts. You’re fierce and beautiful and fearless and you push me the way you say Bull pushes Trevelyan. But you can’t stand me, so once again I’m left standing here the fool…”

It was some kind of permission granted. Hennig marched over in two long strides, grabbed him by tunic, and pulled him into a hungry kiss. She ran her tongue along the scar she had fantasized about for months now, and for the first time his hands on her were assertive as he pulled her in closer.

The moment didn’t last. The sound of applause jolted them apart. “Thank Andraste, that took long enough!”

There, up on the ramparts, were most of the crew, including (much to both of their embarrassment) Trevelyan herself. She was not upset with Cullen’s confession about her, however; rather, she was beaming with happiness.


	7. Negotiations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The chapter of "we have too many personal issues between the two of us to settle this quickly".

It was not the most poised of retreats for either of them. Hennig left him standing there still holding his sword lamely while she disappeared into the night, and honestly, she had no idea what he said to them, if he said anything at all. She could barely keep track of the flood of thoughts overwhelming her. What just happened? What did it mean? What would happen next? By the Eight, why did there have to be witnesses?!

After a fitful night of sleep stolen between bouts of swirling emotions, she finally decided that they had to speak, most definitely in private. It was still early enough that she could snag him before he began his daily routine of handling inane questions and strutting around barking at his men. She’d find him in his quarters high atop the ramparts, and she’d find him alone.

The sun had barely peeked over the horizon when she knocked. Hennig expected it to take him awhile to get to the door, quite possibly roused from bed, but he answered within moments. Like he had been waiting for her. The door swung open to reveal a groggy-looking Commander Rutherford, rubbing his eyes yet fully dressed as he had been from the night before. “Good of you to show up after that exit last night,” he grumbled wearily.

Hennig just slipped past him into his quarters. “I…I didn’t know what to do, so I did the first thing that came to mind. I’m not saying it was the best thing.”  
“Right.” He closed the door with a click, then eyed her carefully. “So…”

“You look like a mess,” she offered.

This earned her a scowl. “Was I supposed to sleep well after that?”

The Dragonborn blinked in surprised. “You didn’t sleep?”

“You did?” He seemed to droop at that. Was he disappointed knowing their incident hadn’t inspired the same reaction in her as it did in him?

“Barely.” She paused, studying the floor of his office. “I expected you’d want a quick tumble, something passionate and brief and then over just to get it out of your system. But it really means something to you, doesn’t it? I didn’t think it would, not truly.”

He gave a bitter laugh. “It always does, and that always comes back to bite me in the ass.” Cullen stalked over to his chair and sank into a slouch. “Shall I lay all the cards on the table for you, Hennig? I’m already in over my head. Or perhaps you’d rather not know so it makes running easier?”

Normally, things didn’t get under Hennig’s skin, but his look of utter defeat had her stomach twisting in knots. Wrong, so wrong a look on his face, and she was the reason. Her response was to find another chair and pull it closer to his desk. She never said a word, but cocked her head expectantly.

He was able to take the hint. “My first crush was a mage in the circle where I was first assigned. I was young then, and when she was around I didn’t know which end of the sword to grab. Of course it was forbidden, a Templar and a mage, but when she smiled at me it made me forget all that.” The cards on the table meant him spilling about his love-life? Well, this was going to be insightful. Hennig tried to recall her first crush, only to realize that if she’d had one, she didn’t’ remember it now. All she remembered was being focused on herself. 

The story took a sudden twist when he continued. “She got out right before the circle fell to powerful demons. They killed most of my companions.” Trevelyan had explained this to her, the fear people had of spirits possessing humans and inflicting massive destruction, which caused the immense crackdown on mages. It surpassed the fear people in Tamriel had of necromancy; at least that was only one forbidden school of magic as opposed to magic in general. A horde of demons sounded like the people’s worst fears come true, and he’d witnessed it firsthand. That explained quite a few things…

He drew a shaky breath, redirecting her attention. “I was kept alive to torment for sport, or maybe they just fed off of my pain and fear. It felt like I spent years being tortured in that tower, but they told me afterwards it had only been a few days. The things they played in my mind…” The mighty warrior shuddered, leaving her stunned. “I would have died there if the Hero of Ferelden hadn’t arrived and slain the abominations. I still…have nightmares of it sometimes. And when I get close to those fade rifts…it feels too similar. I can’t handle it.”

“Cullen…” She wasn’t sure why his name spilled from her lips instead of his title, but it probably had to do with the humanity he was finally revealing to her. “That’s why you didn’t trust me and my magic. It’s a much more valid reason than blind prejudice. If I’d have known, I wouldn’t have antagonized you the way I did back then…”

He dismissed her concern with a wave of his hand. “You’re right. I was extremely paranoid of magic afterwards. They reassigned me to a circle in Kirkwall that was very strict, thinking it would keep me from dealing with anything similar.”

“They reassigned you after all that trauma?” she gaped. “I thought for sure that was when you quit the Templars.”

“Oh no. I spent another decade policing mages. I did a lot of things and said a lot of things while in Kirkwall that I regret. What’s worse, there were a lot of things I allowed to happen that will haunt me. At the time, I was able to justify it with the memories of my torture. I’m not past my bias towards mages to this day, but I’m trying to get past it. When the Kirkwall Circle fell and the mages and Templars went into all-out war, it was a wake-up call to the mistrust we both had. That’s when I left. That’s when I was recruited for the Inquisition. As for Trevelyan, well, you already know about that, and I don’t have anything else to add.”

“For mistrusting mages, you certainly seem attracted to them. And if that’s true, surely you can’t hate them as much as you say.” Suddenly, Hennig’s eyes took a hard slant. “Unless of course you are attracted to the idea of dominating them. If that is the case, I will send you flying from this tower.”

“N-no, it’s not like that, I swear!” Cullen waved his hands frantically. “Amell and Trevelyan were both healers at heart, lights in the darkness. Theirs is a kind of magic that always felt…safe.”

“And me?” she raised an eyebrow.

He risked a smirk. “You’re more like a smack upside the head. A much needed smack sometimes. Certainly much more approachable. Someone I can…” He paused, shaking his head. It was beginning to throb again. “You get the idea.”

“That does sound like me.”

There was a pause. Cullen exhaled deeply. “So, look, that’s the baggage attached to me. I thought you should know before you make any decisions. What I present myself as and what I truly am are two very different things. Really, I’m…broken.” He squeezed his eyes shut, rubbing his temples. It looked as if his headache had returned. “I would understand if you only wanted Commander Rutherford and not Cullen. I just can’t give you Commander Rutherford. I’m not in it for quick gratification even if you do drive me wild in the heat of the moment. I’m afraid I just can’t be what you want.”

Hennig stood and slowly approached him, never taking her eyes off of him. “Are you having withdrawal symptoms again, Cullen?”  
She’d used his first name again. That was twice now. Was it pity or something else? “I think the stress has triggered it,” he admitted, hoping to match that sign of confidence with candor.

Her hands began to glow as she raised them to his head. She whispered “This time, because I want to.”

Unlike the last time, he sighed in relief as he felt the light pressure of her hands and the tingling sensation of her restoration magic. The pain dissolved in a flurry of golden sparks. Light in the dark. “You’re so good at this, Hennig,” he murmured, letting his eyes drift shut. “You may have a completely different personality than Amell or Trevelyan, but you’re actually just as much of a healer at heart.”

Something about that comment gave her butterflies in her stomach. “Who knows. They always say third time’s the charm.” When his eyes shot open, searching her for the truth, she continued. “Broken is much easier to live with than perfect. We should start by getting to know each other better then, I suppose.”

VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV

“You’re going with Trevelyan, then? Back to the Temple of Sacred Ashes?”

Cullen was seated across from Hennig in his office, where they had agreed to dine a few times a week in order to converse. Naturally, this was awkward at first, with neither really knowing what to say. Cullen hadn’t pulled any punches; he was in fact very different in private than he was in front of his men, and that took some getting used to. It didn’t offer the same kind of intensity that set her blood racing, but that was the point She did miss that side of the relationship if she was being honest. Then again that was probably because being open with a potential romantic interest was so foreign and uncomfortable to her. They started with daily reports and let things grow from there, and today was no different.

“It’s time to finish this, and Trevelyan wants me at her side when we do. Of course Morrigan plans to go in shape-shifted into a dragon, but if something goes wrong, they’ll need me to ground his little pet.” Hennig took a long swig of ale. “Divines, I hope that’s the last shout I’ll have to use, if I have to use it at all. That plan of lying low was out the window way more quickly than I expected when I arrived here…”

“About that.” Cullen set down his fork, fully devoting his attention to her. “I quit lyrium because it quite literally destroys a person’s mind. As far as you’ve led me to believe, shouting doesn’t affect you in any physical sense. And of course, in terms of maintaining your privacy, the secret has been out for some time now. It is not a weapon to be misused or taken lightly, I can appreciate that. All that said, I still…I don’t know, I guess I wonder why you are so dead-set against using your ability.”

“I told you already, the gods punished me for being reckless by sending me here,” she retorted quickly, reaching for her flagon again.

“Have you ever considered your Divines sent you to where you were needed most?”

She froze, flagon inches from her face. “Why would they do that? I already stopped the end of the world in my plane of existence! Surely that would be enough.”

“Who can understand the will of the gods.” He shrugged. “I just know that every time you have used your shout, you saved many, many people. Back in Haven, you brought down Corypheus and bought us time to escape. At Skyhold, when we were in disarray and in a weakened state, you defended us from a dragon attack. And at Adamant, you prevented a prolonged battle with casualties on both sides. I’d say your abilities were exactly what we needed when we needed it.”

Hennig set down the flagon, never having gotten her drink in. “You know, there’s a group of old hermits back in Tamriel that train people like me, and they feel the voice should never be used in the affairs of men. Too much power.” She was gazing somewhere past him, into her memories. I thought they were crazy. I used the voice to stop the World-Eater, and I have no regrets. What I do regret is…war. When is it righteous? When is it petty political squabbles? I stepped into the middle of a drawn-out civil war hoping to end people’s suffering and ended up used by one side to defeat the other. I just don’t know if I went too far.”

Now Cullen cocked his head, brow furrowed in thought. “When we first met, you made several comments about commanders that I didn’t understand. I suppose the one that was pulling your strings left a bad taste in your mouth, and I did nothing but represent that at the time.”

Was that it? She’d never thought of it that way, only seen him as a mage-hater, but when he gave it words… “When I saw you with the wounded men… You weren’t like him. I trusted your judgement at Adamant because of that. Still, I’m…” She shook her head, suddenly jumping to her feet. “I don’t trust myself to make the right decision. That’s why I can’t.” She grabbed her plate of half-eaten food and started for the door. “I’m sorry, it wasn’t you. I just need some space before the battle tomorrow.”

“Hennig!”

The familiar authority in his tone had her stopping in her tracks. “Yeah?”

“If you are in danger tomorrow, promise me you won’t hold back.” When she didn’t respond immediately, he pounded a fist on his desk. “Swear it to me, Hennig!”

“Why do you care so much about what I do?” she challenged, refusing to turn and look at him. She could easily imagine how he looked, the fire in his eye. His was such a shocking duality.

“Because you need to come back from that battle, Hennig!”

“So what if I don’t? This isn’t even my world!”

“It could be if you’d let it!”

The words hung in tense silence, the void crackling as if she’d loosed a sparks spell. She struggled desperately to come up with the right retort, to fight back, but he beat her to it. The intensity was sapped from the room in an instant, and somehow the quietness of his voice carried more impact than Unrelenting Force. “I wish being here wasn’t a punishment to you. That’s all.”

She opened the door and slipped out without a word. There was nothing to say.


	8. Lovers, Then

As much as he hated to admit it, this final battle was not his. Not only was it the fight of a small group rather than an army, but the close proximity to lyrium and the old rift was more than he could handle if he were being honest. The seasoned warrior was forced to watch the team set off then along with the other companions not selected to join them. At this point, he trusted Bull would fight just as hard as he would to keep Trevelyan safe. In fact, he respected his dedication to her, knowing full well how the Iron Bull hated rampant magic and demons, but insisted on being there anyhow. In a way, they were more similar than he allowed himself to accept initially. Blackwall would also fight harder than anyone, owing her his life and hating the ways Corypheus had twisted the Wardens. Morrigan, who knew. It made him feel better knowing they had Hennig as a back-up.

But Hennig never once looked at him. He feared the worst, feared she’d be reckless out of spite. He wondered if he had made things worse with what he had said the day before. Maker, if she got herself killed, he might just have to live the rest of his life wondering if he was to blame, and that sat like a knot in the pit of his stomach. There was no rest to be had the entire time they were away.

What felt like an eternity of not knowing was actually only four days. The witch had shifted into a raven and flown back to Skyhold to report the victory ahead of the group, putting everyone’s mind at ease and igniting wild festivities all around. What’s more, she reported no casualties among the party. This helped him to sleep at night, to be certain, though he never did join the celebrations beyond drinks with the other advisors. Something still had him on edge, that much was apparent to all, and it was hard to pinpoint exactly what it was. All he knew was that it had to do with Hennig.

The cry went up as soon as they were seen on the approach, and the entire keep lit up with joy. Every worker dropped what they were doing to swarm the courtyard. Cullen watched it all from up on his rampart, having leapt from his desk at the first sound of the alarm. He should be down in the courtyard too with the others of the inner circle, but it was already such a mob, it would be impossible. He could only wonder what was being said as they came to a halt and shared words with Josie and Leliana. 

All he knew was that even from his position high above, he could make out the brief moment that she flashed him a glance. She was looking for him even if she averted her eyes as soon as she found him. That had to be a good sign, right?

VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV

They had organized a huge banquet that night to welcome them home and celebrate their final victory over evil. There was music, food, and formalwear. It was almost like being in Orlais again, though far fewer guests had masks this time around.

There was also the fact that Hennig was wearing a stunning, sky-blue ball gown this time. Maker’s Breath, where and when had she acquired that? He remembered his flippant comment from months before, declaring he would never recognize her if she were to dress up in feminine finery, and now he scowled at his ridiculous claim. She was all he could notice, so much so that Tevelyan’s words made him jump.

“You look positively bewitched, Cullen.”

“Trevelyan, I, ah, I am glad to see you well. I’m sorry I couldn’t make it down to the gate to welcome you home. There was kind of a mob in the way…”

She waved away his concern. “It has been a mad house ever since we arrived. But you really should go talk to her, you know.”

It was so awkward, speaking of Hennig in front of Trevelyan even though he knew the two of them were close friends. She had to have heard by now of the crush he had previously had on her (Bull had probably made that clear, ever the brilliant observer with his one good eye), yet somehow she didn’t seem to harbor any of the same discomfort he was feeling, hinting at his new romantic interest with ease. In fact, it almost felt as if she were TRYING to get them together! “I don’t want to interrupt her. I don’t know if she even wants to see me…”

“She’s been looking for you all day when she thinks no one notices.” Trevelyan’s laughter was light, despite the harshness of her final battle and the long road home. She truly was a marvel, a miracle shaped by Andraste. Damn it all, Hennig was right; he simply couldn’t see her any other way.

“Really?” Cullen scratched his head nervously. “I was afraid I’d riled her up too much before she left. Said some things she didn’t want to hear.”

“That’s why you are good for her, and she for you,” Trevelyan insisted. “Besides…you should know just how hard she fought. Whatever you said to her, I’ve never seen her embrace her power so openly since she arrived. Even when she knew it was for the greater good, she still always had hesitation. This time, nothing was held back.”

What was this feeling constricting his chest beneath the obvious shock? His mouth fell open, but no words came out. Trevelyan just took one of his hands in hers and squeezed. “Thank you for whatever you said. Even if she never acknowledges it, it meant a great deal to her. It may have very well saved her life. As her friend, I thank you too. Now…go on!” She released her grip on him and nodded towards Hennig. What else could he do but obey, his own thoughts too jumbled to do otherwise?

He stopped just shy of where she was speaking to Varric, recounting the events of the battle in far greater detail than Morrigan had. As he pondered the right way to interrupt, Varric glanced his way and chuckled. “I’ll pick your brain later, Pyro. I think you and Curly here have more pressing matters to attend to.” Flashing a grin, he dismissed himself, leaving the pair to eye each other warily only after giving what he likely considered an encouraging jab to his arm. Right, Varric had been one of them up on the ramparts that evening they had been caught… He was also the type to enjoy teasing them mercilessly.

Cullen found himself scratching the back of his head again. “I heard you were a force to be reckoned with against Corypheus.”

“I’m surprised you found me, dressed like this,” she blurted, ignoring his previous comment and running her hands along the fabric. He couldn’t remember a time she had ever looked so unsettled.

“That color suits you. It matches your eyes perfectly.” She stared. He swallowed. “Perhaps now that Corypheus is dead, you’ll have more reasons to wear it.”

Without warning, she grabbed him by the finely-tailored sleeve and started dragging him to the stairwell on the nearest wall. He let himself be dragged, keenly aware of the eyes watching them, and he was certain that his face was turning the same red color of his jacket. Still, he didn’t utter a sound until they were safely behind a stone wall. “What in Andraste’s name was that for?” he hissed. “Everyone saw that!”

“For one thing, everybody already thinks things. I’m sure even you have noticed.” She was not wrong, as loathe as he was to admit it. It didn’t take much for a rumor to spread like wildfire in a place like Skyhold, and though his closest companions tip-toed around it, people like Varric and Trevelyan waved it in his face. “Besides, reverse psychology,” she continued matter-of-factly. “It is so unlike us to do something like that that they would never believe anything is happening right now.”

His eyebrows shot up. “IS something happening right now?”

Hennig blinked. “I’d like it to.”

That was invitation enough. He was annoyed, though at what specific thing he couldn’t decide, and that only fueled his desire to kiss her, not to mention all the tension of the last few days ready to snap. Without even realizing it he had her pinned to the wall, mouth pressed to hers. She reciprocated the intensity, much to his relief. It was easy to become lost in it. When they finally broke away a minute later, they were both panting.

“What do you say, Commander Rutherford? Should we go…celebrate…in my quarters?” she whispered into his ear, voice dripping with sin. It made the man shudder.

“Are you…would you regret it later?” he murmured, the anxiety rapidly returning and replacing the dark passion his eyes had held a moment prior. He took a step back, hoping to give himself space to think more clearly. “It’s been a long, long time, and I warned you I’m not the man you want…”

Her eyes narrowed. “But you are the man I need. I’m pretty sure I told you something similar once, but after thinking about what you said that day over lunch, I’ve come to the conclusion that I may need to take my own advice.”

“Hennig…”

“I tried, Cullen, I tried for you. I mean, for the others too, but it was you I was thinking of when I shouted fire and death at Corypheus.”

“Uhhh…”

“No! Not because I was angry at you!” He noticed she was bunching up the fabric in her fists again in agitation. “Because you wanted me to come back. Because you wanted me to come home! Divines, I don’t normally operate like this, but I’ve tried to open up for you, to show you I’m game for something long-lasting. I can’t keep doing this though unless you throw me a line, Cullen! I’m a physical person. Maybe it’s the dragon blood, or maybe it’s me. I need you to show me that you want me!”

She was so wrapped up in her emotions that she did not expect him to scoop her up in that instant. The growl in his voice put a shiver up her spine in the best way possible. “Oh, believe me, Hennig, I want you if you’ll have me.” Cullen began to march up the stairs with his prize in tow, doing his best not to trip on the drapes of fabric of her dress.

“Where are we going?” she breathed, gripping the lapels of his jacket.

“Madame de Fer loves this sort of party. Surely she won’t be retiring to her davenport for a few hours at least…”

That sounded shockingly depraved for a man like Cullen, and she had to laugh. “Two rules then.”

“What’s that?” He didn’t take his eyes off the path ahead, but he tilted his head attentively.

“One, remember that I won’t break.”

“You won’t…oh. Ah, I see… Good to know.” She noted with smug satisfaction the slight blush coloring his cheeks.

“And two, even though I’ll fight you tooth and nail on instinct, I want you to take charge.”

And show her that he wanted her. He could grasp that, as well as her need to fight. “Understood.”

However, as they rounded the corner of the stairwell, they were greeted with a most unexpected sight. Bull and Trevelyan were occupying the davenport in question engaged in a full-blown make-out session, complete with all accompanying sound effects. Cullen nearly dropped Hennig in horrified shock. As he remained paralyzed, Bull looked up from what he was doing and grinned. “Sorry, this spot’s taken.” Trevelyan turned around, cheeks flushed with pleasure, and waved at the pair. Hennig flashed a thumbs-up. Cullen turned tail and scurried away as fast as he could.

VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV

They stood in the courtyard side by side, surrounded by various trunks. Hennig had ribbed Cullen about having so much more luggage than her, to which he responded by pointing out that his armor took up more space than hers. It was bizarre to see all of their things packed up neatly, ready to be moved to their next destination, almost as bizarre as how quiet the courtyard was. Gone were the sounds of smithers smithing and hawkers hawking, the sounds of gossip and the neighing of horses. They were the very tail end of the now-disbanded Inquisition. Several of the Inner Circle had even gone on ahead to seek their fortunes. Cullen had remained to tie up all the loose ends with the military. Now, there was nothing else to be done. He could go anywhere and do anything. He was free from his lyrium chains and the Templars, free to contemplate a future for the first time since he was a boy. There was only one thing he knew for certain, and that was that Hennig would join him wherever he went.

“That’s it then.” Trevelyan gave a sad smile, and Bull, standing beside her, rubbed her shoulder knowingly.

“That’s it. But of course, if you ever need us, send word. For you, we’ll pick up and come in an instant,” Hennig promised with a resolute nod. Cullen mirrored her.

“I’m just glad you have somewhere to go.”

“That wasn’t the reason you were trying so hard to hook us up, was it?”

Both Trevelyan and Bull laughed while Cullen rolled his eyes. “I would have kept you around if you didn’t have Cullen. But, for both of your sakes, I’m glad you’ve got each other.”

“Where will you go?” Bull interjected.

Hennig shrugged and turned to Cullen. He cleared his throat. “I don’t have specifics yet, but I’d like to start a rehabilitation program for Templars going off of lyrium. The Fereldan crown has expressed an interest in sponsoring such a program. Somewhere in the Hinterlands, most likely.”

“With lots of mabari,” Hennig amended.

“That sounds perfect.” Trevelyan sighed. “I wish you both well.”

“You’ll come and visit us, won’t you? I mean, once we have a place for you to visit?”

“Of course! And the same goes for you.” She waved with that same, serene smile of hers. “Take care of yourselves. And each other.”

It wasn’t until they were down the road quite a ways that Cullen finally spoke. “I guess that chapter is over.”

Hennig had never had a serious lover, so reaching out to take his hand in hers was still something new. With him, though, it felt right. “And the next one is just beginning. Though…” She glared up at the cloudy sky. “This doesn’t look right for a happily ever after.” She inhaled deeply, and much to Cullen’s shock, she let out a Lok Vaa Koor that resonated in the mountains so all could hear. She just looked up at the sky expectantly, and when he followed her gaze, he noticed in awe that the clouds seemed to roll away.

“Hennig?”

She shrugged. “Come on, would the Divines really smite me for that?”

At the sight of her mischievous smirk, he had to smile too. “I think you’ve earned that right by now.” He squeezed her hand. “More than earned it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: I have never written in length about Cullen before. I'm the oddball in this fandom that would rather talk your ear off about Blackwall. I think it is because I hate the dynamic of his relationship with most Inquisitors for reasons I reference in the story. Pairing him with Hennig though... It seemed more natural, and embraced more of his gruff and snarky side. As I noted at the beginning, I didn't imagine this taking on such a life of its own when I wrote the first segment for a gift. I hope Sumi still likes it after all the turns it has taken!


End file.
